


falling into place

by spilled_notes



Series: Utterances [8]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-20 15:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: After she runs at the end of Life in the Freezer, Bernie is filled with regret for her cowardice. An unexpected phone call from Jason breaks through her misery, and his words - and impeccable, unassailable logic - help things fall into place. For the prompt ‘things you said over the phone’.





	1. Chapter 1

Bernie drives home, hands clenched around the wheel, focusing hard on driving, on not causing an accident. Pushing what just happened – her own stupid, _idiotic_ cowardice – to a corner of her mind until she gets home.

Inside, in her empty, unwelcoming flat, she alternates between sitting perfectly still and jumping up to pace around the room. Her constant inner monologue of _stupid woman, coward, bloody idiot, what the fuck did you do that for_ is punctuated with occasional words out loud, berating and blaming and cursing herself.

For a while she can’t even cry. But she reimagines the look on Serena’s face and the break in her voice over and over, the knife twisting in her chest a little more each time. Eventually she collapses, sliding down the wall in a crumpled heap, her whole body convulsing.

‘Why are you like this?’ she sobs. ‘Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?’

Serena fills her mind, her soul, every recollection sparking more and more tears.

The feel of Serena in her arms, against her lips. The sounds she made, moans and sighs in counterpoint to her own. The warmth in her eyes, her smile.

The way she’d looked at her like she’d performed a miracle. Which she had, really. A miracle of bureaucracy if nothing else. She wouldn’t have done it but for Serena, wouldn’t even have considered it.

_Things we scarce imagined indeed._

How broken Serena was when she said she was going, when she pushed her away. When she ran.

Eventually she cries herself out, her ribcage sore, every ragged breath painful.

 _Well deserved,_ she thinks bitterly.

She sits up, back against the wall, elbows on her knees, hands clasped. Discovers how to breathe around the invisible knife still lodged in her chest.

The ring of her phone breaks her from her haze of misery and regret and self-recrimination. She’d ignore it but it’s the _Countdown_ theme, which means that it’s Jason. So she hauls herself up, rummages in her handbag, takes the deepest breath her aching body will allow and answers.

‘Hello Jason, is everything alright?’

‘No. Auntie Serena didn’t call me like we arranged, so I called her instead.’

‘Ok.’

‘She’s very upset. She said you’re going away.’

‘Just for a few months.’

‘Why? I thought you liked her, and now you’re hurting her.’

His confusion is evident, and Bernie wishes she knew how to explain it. Confessing her cowardice to him when she can’t admit it to Serena doesn’t seem like an option.

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ she sighs, sinking onto the sofa, running a hand through her hair.

‘Yes it is,’ he insists. ‘You shouldn’t hurt the people you like – not on purpose, not when you can do something about it.’

Bernie swallows down a sob. Why can’t she see the world as simply and naively as Jason?

‘I don’t _want_ to hurt her, Jason.’

‘But you are. She wants you to stay.’

‘She told you that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Those were her exact words?’

‘Yes,’ he repeats, with a touch of annoyance.

‘Not that she doesn’t want me to go?’

‘No, she wants you to stay. But they’re the same thing anyway.’

‘Do you- do you think so?’

‘Yes. They both mean she wants you to be here, not somewhere else. I asked if there was anything I could do to help and she said no, but I thought that if you caused the problem then you might be able to fix it. And Auntie Serena likes you.’

‘I’m really not sure she does at the moment,’ Bernie says sadly.

‘Usually she does. She smiles when she talks about you – which is a lot. And she asked me if I would mind her spending more time with you outside of work, so she must like you.

‘Today?’ Bernie frowns.

‘At the weekend.’

‘At the weekend?’ Bernie breathes.

‘Yes, that’s what I said. Aren’t you listening?’

‘Sorry, Jason.’

‘So will you talk to her? Will you stay?’

‘What if I end up hurting her more?’

‘Well that’s just silly.’

‘Why?’

‘Going away would definitely hurt her, but staying only might. Therefore staying is the better option.’

‘It’s a risk, though.’

‘You take risks all the time, Dr. Bernie. You’re a surgeon, _and_ you were a soldier.’

‘Yes, but at work I always have a good idea of the likelihood of a poor outcome, and how able I am to avoid it.’

‘You do a risk assessment?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So why don’t you do one now?’

‘It’s different. I don’t know what I might do wrong,’ she says sadly. ‘And past experience suggests I’m more likely to do something wrong than not.’

‘But that past experience is with other people, not Auntie Serena, so it isn’t really very good evidence, is it?’

Bernie can’t help smiling at his impeccable logic. ‘I suppose not.’

‘I have to go,’ he announces. ‘It’s time for tea.’

‘Ok. Say hi to Alan from me.’

‘I will. Goodbye. And Dr. Bernie?’

‘Yes, Jason?’

‘Please call her. I don’t like it when she’s sad.’

The phone slips from Bernie’s fingers, thudding onto the carpet. Her mind is whirling.

 _At the weekend. Before. She was thinking about_ us _before._

_So was I. For weeks._

She buries her face in her hands and sighs, almost a growl of frustration.

‘You utter, utter idiot,’ she mutters. ‘Why weren’t you paying more attention? Oh, I know.’ She jumps up and starts pacing again. ‘Too busy trying not to think about her, trying to keep it confined to bloody theatre. Well, look how well _that_ worked out. _Idiot_.’

She heaves another sigh, leans against the back of the sofa and hangs her head, letting it drop until her forehead rests on her hands. She thinks of the Higsons, of Pete’s devotion to Cathy, his unwavering conviction that what they shared was worth all the pain and suffering. Of Dom who, if she knows him at all, is going to take the plunge and move in with Isaac.

_And then there’s me._

She has felt too much pain – _caused_ too much pain – to share Dom’s youthful optimism. And everything ends. Perhaps not always as painfully as for Pete, but still.

_Is it worth it?_

This morning she had thought so. Yesterday, last week, last month she had thought so.

‘Serena,’ she whispers, conjuring her in her mind’s eye.

The memory of their kiss earlier, and _oh_ , Serena’s smile.

Opposite each other over their trauma patient, hands and minds in perfect harmony.

Everything that might go wrong and every one of their interactions flashes before her, and something falls into place.

‘Yes,’ she says out loud, straightening up and taking a deep breath.

_Time to be the brave, macho army medic._

Swiftly she finds her car keys, slips out of the door before she can change her mind.

*          *          *

Bernie drives past Serena’s house several times before parking. Sits in the car for ten minutes, forehead against the steering wheel, trying to claw back the courage that has seeped away on the journey, fighting the instinct to speed away. Finally she forces herself to get out, to walk up the path, knock on the door.

Her heart is racing, breath coming fast and shallow. She feels dizzy, the world fuzzy around the edges. The urge to run is rising in her, but before she can give in the door slowly opens.

Serena’s eyes are red and watery, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with mascara. The flame-coloured blouse has been replaced with a grey wool cardigan, soft and oversized, swathing her figure. Her breath hitches when she sees Bernie. In her eyes is a mix of wariness, anger, hurt, hope and – yes, love.

Bernie swallows hard. Her mouth is dry, from nerves and tears.

‘Jason called,’ she croaks. ‘He’s worried about you.’

‘And you thought you were the right person to come and check on me?’ The sarcasm in her voice stings, but not as much as the pain.

‘Actually _he_ did, but that’s not why I’m here.’

Serena raises her eyebrows. ‘So you don’t care about me, then?’

‘No, Serena, I-’ She sighs, rubs her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. Words are not exactly my forte.’

‘Evidently not,’ Serena says drily. ‘Try again.’

‘I’m scared,’ Bernie says, after a deep breath.

She doesn’t dare to move. Eyes locked on Serena’s, arms dangling uselessly by her sides.

‘Of what?’

‘Hurting you. I hurt everyone I care about.’ She hesitates, forces a breath, adds quietly, ‘Losing you.’

‘Safer not to have me at all?’ Serena’s voice is remarkably steady, but Bernie can see her fighting to stay in control.

Bernie nods, bites her lip.

‘So why are you here?’

‘I-’ The tears well up again, her throat closing over. She looks away, unable to bear the emotions in Serena’s eyes any longer. Unable to say what she needs to while her gaze is fixed on the tearstained face of the woman she has so stupidly hurt.

‘I don’t want to run away any more,’ she whispers to Serena’s doorstep.

Her head snaps up at the touch of Serena’s hand on her elbow.

‘Then don’t.’

‘I’ve told Hanssen that I’ll go.’

‘Tell him you’ve changed your mind,’ Serena says simply, hand running down Bernie’s arm to tangle their fingers.

‘I don’t know how to do this,’ Bernie admits, eyes flicking away again. ‘I don’t want to move too fast and wreck everything.’

‘You think I need time?’

‘I know _I_ do. I’m a mess, Serena. I need to get myself sorted.’

‘Well you don’t need to sod off to bloody Ukraine for that, do you?’

‘No,’ Bernie smiles. ‘I suppose not.’

‘And much as I want you, I _can_ control myself,’ Serena teases. ‘You’re not entirely irresistible,’ she adds, and it isn’t _quite_ a lie.

‘I’d better up my game then,’ Bernie says, almost steadily.

‘No hurry,’ Serena says soothingly. ‘No pressure. We’ll just take our time. No need to rush into anything.’

Bernie swallows nervously and nods.

‘And Bernie?’

‘Hm?’

‘Don’t panic.’

‘I’ll try.’ A nervous smile quirks her lips, gone in an instant.

‘Just talk to me, alright? I know it’s hard, but I’m always here and I’ll always listen.’ She squeezes Bernie’s hand and the sensation grounds her, wards off the wave of panic.

‘What if it all goes horribly wrong?’

Serena shrugs. ‘What if it doesn’t?’

‘Not a concept I’m all that used to.’

‘Me neither. Still, there’s a first time for everything. Why shouldn’t this be ours?’ Serena smiles. ‘Jason’s not back until Thursday,’ she says, echoing their exchange from earlier.

‘Dinner?’

‘My place?’

‘Well, seeing as we’re already here,’ Bernie smiles.

‘Come on then. I’m sure we can cobble something together.’

Serena tugs on her hand but doesn’t step back, drawing Bernie close and kissing her tenderly.

‘You’re not the only one who’s been wanting to do that for weeks,’ she murmurs.


	2. Chapter 2

Bernie goes to see Hanssen first thing next morning. Serena joins Morven to examine a patient but her mind keeps wandering, her eyes drifting across the ward towards the doors. When Bernie returns she looks crestfallen, even more fragile than she had yesterday afternoon when she told her she was leaving.

Serena hastily excuses herself and follows her to their office, closing the door behind her.

‘Bernie?’

‘He said no,’ she whispers, barely audible.

‘What?’

‘I have to go, Serena. It’s already all in motion.’

‘No,’ Serena says, eyes flashing. ‘No, no, no. I’m going to go and see him, he can’t do this.’

Bernie catches at her arm as she turns on her heel. ‘Please don’t say anything you might regret.’

Nurses and porters scatter before Serena as she strides through AAU and to the lift. She storms straight into Hanssen’s office without knocking, ignoring the protests of his PA.

‘Ms. Campbell,’ he says levelly, looking up from his computer. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Ms. Wolfe,’ she begins.

‘Is still going to Kyiv.’

‘No,’ she says tightly. ‘Sort it, Henrik.’

‘I’m afraid my hands are tied. AAU will just have to manage without her for a few months.’

‘What about me?’

‘Ah.’ Hanssen looks at her shrewdly. He hasn’t missed what’s been growing between the two consultants – very little happens at Holby that he’s unaware of – but he hadn’t realised it had gone this far. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder?’ he suggests, earning him a glare that would send an F1 for the hills. ‘I’m sorry, Ms. Campbell. However, I cannot imagine you are incapable of surviving three months without her, either professionally or personally.’

‘It isn’t always about just surviving though, is it?’

‘No,’ he admits.

She gestures to the sofa on the other side of the room. ‘Do you mind if I-?’

‘Not at all.’

Serena sinks into the leather, closes her eyes, exhales slowly, the anger draining from her.

‘You and Ms. Wolfe have become rather close, I take it.’

She looks at him. ‘I appear to be falling in love with her.’

Only the slightest flicker of eyebrows in his usually neutral expression betrays any hint of surprise at her admission.

‘And Ms. Wolfe? I take it you’re the reason for her change of heart?’

‘Guilty as charged.’

Before he can reply, Serena’s pager beeps.

‘I’m sorry, I need to get back to AAU. Trauma case.’

‘Of course. Ms. Campbell?’

She stops, fingers on the door handle. ‘Yes?’

‘I truly believe it would take much more than a few months apart to diminish what you and Ms. Wolfe have between you.’

Surprised, Serena smiles. ‘I hope you’re right.’

‘I’m not a gambling man, Ms. Campbell, but I would bet on it. That said,’ he adds with the faintest glimmer of a smile, ‘I would be more than happy to approve any changes to the duty roster necessary to enable you to take a short break, if you so desire.’

*

Serena scrubs in and rushes into theatre, where Bernie has already started the laparotomy without her, and it’s straight down to business.

‘Any luck?’ Bernie asks. There’s a note of hope in her voice; however much she tried she hasn’t been able to squash it entirely.

But Serena shakes her head. Neither needs to be able to see more than the other’s eyes, the slice of face between cap and mask, to extrapolate her expression.

Their usual operating theatre banter is rather subdued, but disappointment doesn’t diminish their skill; they locate the bleed, stop it, and close without incident.

And then straight back onto a busy AAU. They don’t have time to talk, just rush from patient to patient, in and out of theatre, taking every opportunity to catch each other’s eye, to let hands reach, brush, linger comfortingly.

Finally a lull. A silent glance between them and they retreat to their office, close the door firmly.

A hesitation. An arm’s length between them, Bernie stock still, Serena’s hands twisting. She feels Bernie’s eyes on her but can’t quite meet them, afraid that she’ll see relief.

‘Serena, I-’ she begins, edging closer. She reaches out tentatively, fingertips just brushing Serena’s arm.

Serena tears her gaze from the floor. And somehow they’re in each other’s arms, as close as it’s possible to get, breathing each other in.

‘I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?’ Bernie murmurs into Serena’s hair.

‘I think it was a joint effort,’ she replies wryly. ‘And Hanssen can take some of the blame, for being too bloody efficient.’

Bernie laughs. ‘I thought you were all for efficiency?’

‘In some situations it’s vastly overrated.’

Bernie loosens her grip enough to be able to look at Serena. ‘It’s just a few months,’ she says, almost hiding the tremor in her voice.

‘I could come and visit?’

‘Yes,’ Bernie says simply. ‘Please.’

‘And you’d better come back to me.’

‘Wild horses couldn’t stop me.’

Bernie leans closer, nudges her nose against Serena’s, finds her lips. Kisses her as if she were oxygen, every movement a promise to return.

*          *          *

Four weeks later – four long, lonely weeks without Bernie, with only texts and emails and phone calls between them – an envelope with a familiar scrawl is among the pile of post on Serena’s desk. She traces her name with a finger then rips it open impatiently and pulls out the contents.

Two plane tickets, Heathrow to Kyiv and a return, three days later.

And a note:

‘I have no doubt you can persuade Hanssen to approve this.

See you soon,

Bernie x’

Serena smiles. No, she grins. Clutches the tickets to her chest and pictures Bernie waiting for her at the airport, imagines the feel of her arms, of being pressed close to her again. Of kissing her again.

She doesn’t storm into Hanssen’s office unannounced this time, instead calls ahead to check that he’s free. She’s certain he almost smiles when she requests the time off, certain he knows why without her saying, for she’s been unable to stop smiling.

‘How cold is it in Kyiv this time of year?’ she texts to Bernie. ‘Do I need to excavate my winter coat and fur hat from the back of the wardrobe?’

‘I would,’ comes the almost instant reply. ‘Although if you don’t I’ll have an excuse to hold you close.’

She hears the ringing of the red phone, as she has every time in the past month wishes Bernie were here to treat the incoming trauma patient with her.

‘No excuse needed. I have to go – the red phone beckons. Talk later?’

‘Let me know when you’re home and between quiz shows :)’

Serena smiles, heart melting a little. ‘Will do. Have a good day x’

‘You too x’

She steps onto the ward to see what fresh chaos today is about to bring, still smiling.

‘You ok?’ Raf asks, frowning. He hasn’t seen Serena smile like this since Bernie left, is puzzled by her sudden happiness, the lightness in her whole body.

‘Just peachy, Mr. di Lucca. What have we got?’

And on with the day. She feels Bernie’s absence just as keenly as she did yesterday, the day before, every day since they said goodbye. But now the promise of seeing her so soon – in ten days – is at the forefront of her mind.

*

An hour between _Countdown_ and Mary Beard. Serena texts Bernie during the Conundrum round so as not to waste a single precious moment, dashes upstairs as soon as the credits roll with a promise to Jason that she won’t be late back, phone clutched in her hand.

Bernie calls bang on time. Serena doesn’t care whether she appears too keen, swipes to answer even before the first ring is over.

‘Hi,’ she breathes.

‘Hello stranger.’

‘You miss me then?’ Serena teases. ‘Can’t go another eight weeks without seeing me?’

‘I thought you might be missing me,’ Bernie replies, evidently smiling.

‘Whatever gave you that idea? Actually no, don’t answer that,’ she adds before Bernie can speak, drawing a laugh from the other end of the phone. ‘I do though,’ she admits. ‘Terribly.’

‘Me too,’ Bernie murmurs. ‘I- I hope you don’t mind that I bought them without checking?’

‘Why would I mind?’

‘I don’t want you to think I’m being presumptuous.’

‘Have you been worrying about this ever since you sent them?’

Silence. She’s been making headway with getting Bernie to talk to her, but it can still be a struggle. Hard to break the habit of a lifetime, she supposes.

‘Bernie?’ she coaxes.

‘Yes,’ she whispers.

‘It was a very sweet thing to do,’ Serena soothes. ‘And I’ve been walking around AAU grinning like an idiot all day because of it.’

‘Really?’

‘Just ask Raf. I think he was _this close_ to getting a psych exam for me.’

Bernie lets out a breath, and Serena can practically feel her relaxing.

‘I can’t wait to see you. I was going to ask when would be good for me to visit, but I didn’t want to push you.’

‘Thank you. Shall I- shall I book you a hotel?’

‘I’d rather stay with you.’

‘My flat’s pretty shit.’

‘Well I’m not visiting for the décor, am I? I’m coming to see you.’

Serena wonders if she’s pushed too far, if this is more than Bernie’s ready for, is about to backpedal and say that of course, a hotel will be fine, when Bernie replies.

‘I’d better tidy up a bit, then.’


	3. Chapter 3

Things haven’t gone quite to plan so far – as seems to be becoming usual for them. Bernie unexpectedly had to work late, and even though Serena’s flight was delayed she still didn’t have enough time to get to the airport to meet her. Instead she came straight back to her flat, glad of the opportunity for a final round of tidying, and made a start on dinner. Now the small rooms smell of bacon, and the constant, repetitive stirring of the risotto has helped to soothe her fizzing nerves.

She’s just adding another ladleful of stock to the pan when the buzzer goes, and her hand jerks.

‘Oh, fuck,’ she mutters, splashing most of it over the stovetop. She hastily mops up the worst of the spill, stirs the rice, dashes to the door. She smooths down her shirt, takes a breath, and opens it.

‘Thought you were going to leave me standing on your doorstep all night for a moment there,’ Serena teases.

Bernie finds herself frozen in place, unable to stop staring. It’s only been six weeks but it feel like forever since she last saw Serena, and she can’t quite believe that she’s actually here.

‘Can I come in?’ Serena prompts.

‘Yes, yes. Sorry.’

Bernie steps back to let her pass, inhales the scent of cold air and coffee and the perfume she hadn’t realised she’d grown so accustomed to until she left, until it was no longer a constant companion at work.

‘It is a bit pants, isn’t it?’ Serena says, looking around.

‘I did warn you.’

Serena turns back to her, cautiously steps closer. ‘But it has you,’ she smiles. ‘Which is all that matters.’

She reaches out, her fingers inches from Bernie’s when they hear a sudden, furious crackling from the tiny kitchen.

‘Fuck,’ Bernie exclaims, bolting back to the pan and stirring, relieved to see that it hasn’t burned. ‘Could you pass me the-’ she starts, but Serena is already beside her, a bowl in each hand. ‘Thanks,’ she smiles.

 _Will it always be like this?_ she wonders. _Like it is in theatre? Like we can read each others’ minds?_

They eat side by side on the sofa, reruns of David Attenborough documentaries on the TV. Serena raises her eyebrows at the choice.

‘His voice reminds me of home,’ Bernie explains, blushing slightly. ‘You can’t get much more British. I’m sorry,’ she says, reaching for the remote. ‘You must be sick of documentaries.’

‘Jason’s more into history than nature, so it’s actually rather a nice change. And you’re right, his voice is very comforting.’

 _Not as comforting as yours,_ Bernie thinks, not quite brave enough to say it out loud.

*          *          *

‘I promised Jason I’d call,’ Serena apologises when their bowls are empty.

‘Of course,’ Bernie says, making to stand up, thinking of getting the washing up out of the way so Serena can’t try and insist on doing it later.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To give you some privacy.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Serena tugs at her hand, pulls her back into the cushions. ‘Besides, he’ll want to talk to you as well.’

Bernie settles back down, watches as Serena finds Jason’s number and holds the phone to her ear. Their hands are still touching and Bernie dares to tangle their fingers, drawing a smile from Serena.

‘Hello Jason, how are you? Good. Yes, the flight was fine, other than being delayed. How’s Alan? Yes, Bernie’s here. Of course you can.’

She holds the phone out to Bernie.

‘Hi Jason. I miss you too. I’d like that very much. Ok, I’ll see you when I get back. Bye.’

‘What did he have you agreeing to?’ Serena asks suspiciously.

‘A _World’s Strongest Man_ marathon,’ Bernie smiles.

‘He likes you a lot.’

‘And I like him.’

The air has grown chilly and Serena shivers. Bernie draws her closer, dragging a blanket over them.

‘Better?’ she murmurs as Serena curls into her.

‘Much.’

Bernie feels her heart swell. She instinctively pushes the emotion away but then shakes her head slightly, nuzzling into Serena’s hair and breathing her in. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘So am I.’

Serena twists to look at her. They’re so close that first their noses and then their lips brush.

‘Should’ve done that as soon as you arrived,’ Bernie apologises.

‘I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.’

*          *          *

Lying in bed later, Serena wonders if Bernie’s going to play the gentleman and offer to sleep on the sofa. She looks at her shyly when she comes out of the bathroom, and Serena smiles warmly. Bernie slips under the covers beside her, shuffling closer and resting her head on Serena’s chest when she holds out an arm.

‘Alright?’ Serena murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Bernie nods. But the longer she lies there in Serena’s arms, head rising and falling with each of Serena’s breaths, the sound of her heartbeat beneath her ear, fingers tracing patterns across her skin, the more her happiness dissipates.

She doesn’t realise how tense her body has become until Serena’s hand stills.

‘Bernie?’ she says softly. ‘Talk to me, darling.’

‘I’m fine, Serena,’ she says weakly.

‘Don’t try that with me, Major,’ Serena says firmly. ‘I know you too well.’

Bernie swallows. Stays where she is, unable to look at her. But she reaches across Serena’s stomach and finds her hand.

‘I’m still scared,’ she confesses, breath whispering across Serena’s skin. ‘I don’t remember when I last felt this happy.’

‘And you’re worried it’s not going to last?’ Serena guesses.

‘Yes.’

Serena longs to lift Bernie’s head, to be able to meet her eye, but lets her stay where she is. She resumes tracing patterns across Bernie’s skin, fingers circling and swirling, drops another kiss to her hair.

‘What would make you feel better?’

A slight shrug. ‘I’m sorry I’m so insecure. You deserve someone better, braver.’

This Serena can’t let pass. ‘Look at me, Bernie,’ she coaxes, shifting to dislodge her head.

Bernie peers at her reluctantly from under her fringe. Serena tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, gently strokes her cheek.

‘I’m scared too. And neither of us is perfect. But you are what I want,’ she says earnestly. ‘You, and us.’

Bernie gazes at her soulfully, and Serena can’t resist any longer. She kisses her tenderly, fingers running along her jawline.

‘Please don’t doubt that,’ she murmurs.

‘I’ll try,’ Bernie promises, kissing her again before settling back against her, nestling into her shoulder. She lets go of Serena’s hand, but only so she can reach across her stomach to curl her fingers firmly around her waist. ‘You’re what I want too,’ she whispers against her skin, and Serena holds her a little tighter. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Serena wakes the next morning Bernie is gone, and for a second she panics. But then she sees the scrawled note on her empty pillow and relaxes:

‘Gone to find breakfast x’

She’s back before Serena has mustered the willpower to get up: it’s far too wonderful lying here warm and cosy, wrapped in sheets that smell of Bernie.

‘Lazybones,’ Bernie teases from the doorway, two takeaway coffees and a paper bag in her hands.

‘Just making the most of not having anything to get up for,’ Serena smiles. ‘Mm, that smells good.’

‘Strong and hot, just as you like it.’

‘Hand it over then,’ Serena says, sitting up.

‘Ah, no. No crumbs in my bed, thank you very much.’

Serena snorts with laughter. ‘This from the woman whose desk looks like a bomb hit it?’

‘I do have some standards,’ Bernie protests. But Serena’s pouting at her and she finds herself unable to resist. ‘Just be careful,’ she grumbles, toeing off her shoes and slipping back into bed beside her.

Serena grins triumphantly, taking the coffee and pain au chocolat Bernie offers, making a show of holding her hand out to catch any crumbs.

Bernie huffs, but can’t quite keep the smile from her face. ‘What would you like to do today?’

‘I wondered if I could have a tour of your trauma unit.’

‘That isn’t why Hanssen thinks you’re here, is it?’ Bernie asks, suddenly worried.

‘I’m pretty sure Henrik knows full well why I’m here. I’d just like to see what you’ve been up to. Be able to picture you at work,’ she adds, feeling a little foolish. ‘Silly, I know, but-’

‘Not silly,’ Bernie murmurs, silencing her with coffee-warmed lips. ‘Not silly at all.’

*          *          *

The trauma unit is clearly still finding its feet but it’s already impressive, and there’s no doubt that it’s going to be spectacular. To begin with Bernie is adorably nervous, stumbling over her words, but as she becomes engrossed in showing Serena all the facilities and equipment her enthusiasm for her work become obvious.

Even if they’re not working it’s reassuring to be back on a ward together, to be where they are the most _them._ And Bernie’s in her element, in this unit that’s so much bigger and better and more advanced than their little trauma bay on AAU.

They eat lunch with some of the unit’s doctors – sandwiches from Kyiv’s equivalent of _Pulses_. It’s clear that Bernie is making a real difference here already, that she’s gained the respect of her colleagues. She animatedly outlines what they have left to do, all the things she’s learning and the ideas she has, and Serena is filled with a mixture of pride and fondness, and a sudden, searing panic.

_What if she wants to stay?_

Her hand drifts to her neck without her noticing, pendant twisting between her fingers. Bernie’s used to working abroad and being away from her family, after all. Why wouldn’t she want to grab this opportunity with both hands and make the most of it, extend her secondment or even- even stay permanently?

Serena is uncharacteristically quiet when they head into the city, finds herself stammering over her words, consumed by worry.

_What if this is it?_

Bernie feels her tension, wracks her mind for what she might have done, might have said, to make Serena withdraw. Her instinct is to pull away, to ignore it, but she’s already fucked this up twice by not engaging Serena in conversation about what they’re feeling. So, over coffee in a quiet cafe, she bites the bullet.

‘What’s wrong, Serena?’ she asks gently.

‘It’s a wonderful facility,’ Serena says tightly, eyes fixed on the tabletop, fingers toying with her necklace again.

‘Yes,’ Bernie frowns.

‘Even more- even more perfect for you than I imagined.’

_Oh._

‘It is a fantastic unit,’ Bernie begins, gaze fixed on Serena’s downturned face. She sees, as much as hears, her breath catch in her throat. ‘But,’ she continues, ‘it’s not where I want to be.’

‘It- it isn’t?’

‘No, Serena. I want to be at Holby, on AAU, in my own trauma unit. With my co-lead beside me – with _you_ beside me.’

Serena takes a shuddering breath, finally raises her eyes to meet Bernie’s.

‘Now, I have a contract to fulfill, but then I’m leaving. I’m coming back, just like I promised.’

‘I don’t want you to feel you have to because of me.’

‘I want to,’ Bernie says firmly.

Serena blinks back tears, offers her a small smile.

‘You didn’t honestly think I could want to stay in my drab, lonely little box of a flat when I could be with you?’

She reaches across the table, lays her hand over Serena’s.

‘I can be a silly old woman sometimes.’

‘Not silly. I haven’t exactly done much to fill you with confidence. And definitely not old.’ She slips her fingers around Serena’s, thumb rubbing her knuckles. ‘You’re gorgeous, Serena.’

Serena shivers a little at the brush of skin against skin, at the honesty shining in Bernie’s eyes. At how those eyes flick down to her lips for the briefest instant.

‘You know, it’s very- attractive, seeing you in your element.’

‘Oh really, Ms. Campbell,’ Bernie smirks. ‘That _is_ an interesting piece of information.’

Serena groans softly. ‘I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?’

Bernie leans closer, lowers her voice. ‘If you must know, I feel the same about watching you work.’

Her admission knocks the breath from Serena’s lungs, draws coiling tendrils of desire through her body.

*          *          *

After a couple of hours wandering the city arm in arm, stealing glances at each other in between admiring old buildings and beautiful churches, Bernie leads Serena to a restaurant for dinner.

Serena knows that she eats, because a full plate is placed before her and an empty one removed. But she couldn’t have said what it was, how it tasted, whether it was any good. Because Bernie keeps looking at her from under her fringe, eyes glinting in the low, golden light that brings out all the myriad shades in her hair. Because every now and then their feet knock against each other under the small table. Because Bernie’s slender fingers are holding her cutlery with such care that Serena feels almost jealous of the silverware.

And she knows she’s gazing at Bernie like a fool, desire and love no doubt written all over her face, but she can’t find it in herself to care, can’t bring herself to look away.

*          *          *

They climb the stairs hand in hand, unable to not touch each other. Shed coats, bags, shoes, scarves, and look at each other. The air suddenly seems too thin, and charged with something like static, sparking off them when they touch, when they stumble into the bedroom, kissing all the way.

Over the threshold Bernie stops, draws back a little. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ she breathes.

‘I know what I want, Bernie.’

‘It’s not that, it’s just- oh,’ she sighs. ‘Another six weeks apart.’

‘Going to need some good memories to get us through,’ Serena smiles.

She draws Bernie to her, feels her melt against her lips.

‘Better get started then.’

They undress each other carefully, with shaking hands, clothes abandoned in a heap on the floor.

And then to bed. Every inch of skin worshipped with hands and lips and tongues, every sigh and moan and plea and _oh yes, there_ indelibly seared into memory.

*          *          *

Bernie wakes early the next morning, a habit she knows she’s never going to be able to break. For a long while she just stares at Serena, as the pale light of dawn creeps into the room and illuminates her until her skin seems to glow, then slips out of bed. Mornings are chilly here so she picks Serena’s flame-coloured blouse from where it was discarded last night, pulls it on, only bothering with one button, then pads into the kitchen, relishing the delicious ache in her muscles, and quietly makes coffee.

She sets one mug on the bedside table then leans against the doorframe, cradling her own. With a soft smile on her face she watches as Serena sleeps then stirs, woken by the smell of coffee. She’s smiling even before her eyes flutter open and light on Bernie.

‘And here I was thinking breakfast in bed was the best thing to wake up to.’

She gazes at Bernie, eyes slowly sweeping across her figure. Her hair, tousled from where Serena’s fingers raked and gripped and stroked. Her neck and clavicles and the hollow of her throat, peppered with sensitive spots that drew sighs and moans when Serena found them. The long scar down her sternum, caressed and appreciated as the reason she came into Serena’s life at all. The swell of her breasts, hidden beneath Serena’s own shirt – and oh, how it feels to see Bernie wearing it – but fixed in her memory. Her toned stomach, the curve of waist and hips. The long, slender legs that had tangled with her own. The strong arms that held her tight, the clever fingers just as skilled in bed as in theatre.

She lingers for a moment on the curls at the apex of her thighs, feels a rush of arousal as she’s assailed by memories of the feel of Bernie against her hand, around her fingers. The smell of her, the taste of her, the sounds she made as she-

‘Oh, you’d better be coming back to bed.’

‘Like me in your shirt, do you?’ Bernie teases.

‘I’d like you even better out of it,’ she almost growls, smirking triumphantly as Bernie shivers.

‘Coffee first,’ she insists. ‘Don’t want you running out of energy.’

Serena sits up, stretches, deliberately arching her back and delighting in Bernie’s soft moan as the covers slip from her body.

‘Like what you see?’ she teases, reaching for the mug.

‘Oh, you know I do.’

The coffee is just the right temperature. No need for tiny sips, no burnt tongue to dull taste or sensation. Made impatient by desire Serena is tempted to gulp it down in as few mouthfuls as possible. But knowing Bernie’s gaze is on her, she can’t resist the opportunity to tease, to take her time, to moan softly, appreciatively, as she swallows. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Bernie shift against the doorframe, fingers twitching around her mug, and suppresses a smirk.

When Serena has finished Bernie saunters the few steps across the room. Her empty mug joins Serena’s on the bedside table. She undoes the single button as slowly as she can, slips the blouse off and lets it drop to the floor with a whisper.

‘Much better,’ Serena murmurs approvingly.

*          *          *

Later they get up in search of sustenance. This time Serena snags her blouse so Bernie pulls on her own, the thin white fabric leaving very little to Serena’s imagination. They eat leaning against the kitchen counter, thin slices of dark, dense rye bread topped with cheese, followed by apples and more coffee. Take it in turns in the bathroom freshening up, wiping away the last remnants of yesterday’s make-up.

Gravitate back to bed, doze and talk and kiss and touch, smiling and laughing and learning each other. Sometimes the touches become more insistent, more urgent, but sometimes they don’t, sometimes they’re just lazy, languid, tender caresses, giving and seeking pleasure with no real intent.

And this is new for both of them. It’s never been like this for Serena, with Edward or Robbie or any of her other male lovers. It was never like this with Marcus, and with Alex there was always the urgency of a war zone, the fear of being caught. It’s liberating and feels like an indulgence and they both glory in it, as the light slips from the room and the air chills and they’re cocooned under the covers, pressed together, skin blissfully against skin.

And _oh_ , to be able to touch this woman at last might just be heaven.


	5. Chapter 5

Bernie has an afternoon shift, Serena an afternoon flight. They hug tightly on the pavement outside Bernie’s building, Serena’s taxi idling beside them.

‘Let me know when you land,’ Bernie murmurs, and Serena nods.

They kissed, long and by turns tender and desperate, inside. Now a brush of warm lips against soft, cold cheeks, a squeeze of hands, fingers lingering, unwilling to let go.

‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

*          *          *

Six weeks later Serena stands in the airport, hand fiddling with her necklace as she waits nervously for Bernie. Her breath hitches when she spots her, a head of messy gold among the incoming travellers.

Bernie’s eyes fix on hers as she wends her way through the crowd, smile broadening into a grin the closer she gets. She drops her carry-on beside her suitcase, takes the last step between them, wraps her arms tightly around Serena.

‘Welcome home,’ Serena murmurs, tears hidden in Bernie’s hair.

Bernie breathes her in, sighs contentedly. The last uneasiness, the last worry lingering inside her falls away and she pulls Serena closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.

 _Home,_ she thinks. And there’s no panic.

Bernie loosens her grip a little, just enough to be able to look at Serena. Her heart swells almost painfully, but the usual instinct to hide behind the shield of British reserve isn’t there. She can see it shining it Serena’s eyes and doesn’t want to run. Has no desire to stop the emotions filling her, coursing through her veins, no desire to hold back the words. Her throat doesn’t close up like it has every other time she’s tried to say them.

‘I love you,’ she says, tears pricking her eyes.

Serena can’t help the laugh that bubbles from her lips. She caresses Bernie’s cheek, fingers sliding to tangle in her hair. ‘And I love you,’ she replies, leaning closer and kissing her softly.

‘I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.’

‘Now you can,’ Serena grins. ‘As much as you like.’

Bernie takes her literally and kisses her again, smiling all the while.

‘Come home with me?’

‘Only if it’s fish and chips night,’ Bernie teases.

‘Oh, you know it is.’

‘Then I’d be delighted to.’ Bernie slings her carry-on over her shoulder, takes hold of the handle of her case, holds out her free arm. ‘Shall we?’

Serena tucks her hand into the crook of Bernie’s elbow. ‘Let’s.’


End file.
